Irreversible
by lightlacedwithbeauty
Summary: Jace and Clary, both basketball players, meet each other at the basketball courts. Clary happens to find out Jace is in a gang, but will that stop her from falling for him? Written with Jake P.


**Hello, everyone. So, I'm back with another story, and this one is written with my good friend, Jake (his profile: u/2228846/Jake_M_Parker). **

**Summary: Jace and Clary, both basketball players, meet each other at the basketball courts. Clary happens to find out Jace is in a gang, but will that stop her from falling for him?**

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Disclaimer: Mortal Instruments and all its associated characters, places and events all belong to Cassandra Clare and the copyright holders. This is a non-profit fan work and no copyright infringement is intended. All other work belongs to Jake and lightlacedwithbeauty.

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**Chapter 1: You're Part of Our Gang**

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Clary bounced the orange basketball, weaving in and out of the cones that were situated at different positions on the court. She focused on keeping her mind only on what she was doing, but she couldn't help the thoughts that nagged her.

_You're not doing as well as I thought you should be. I recommend getting outside help. I have someone that could improve your skills, so let me know if you want that, _Coach Blackthorn had said to her the day prior.

But why should she get help when she knew how to play the game? Exceptionally well, too. Or so she thought. But apparently that wasn't the case.

Clary thought back to the day she had her championship game.

_Her hands were sweaty. Almost absently, she wiped them on shorts and took a couple deep breaths, blocking out the crowd around her and only focusing on herself. You can do this, Clary. Just one more shot. You've got it._

_She narrowed her eyes at the basket, deciding how and where she'd wanted the ball to go, and crouched down a little, bending her knees. She dribbled the ball once, twice, then glanced at the hoop again. It didn't seem that intimidating now. Clary knew where she wanted the ball to go. She wanted it to swish. She wanted to hear the sound of the ball go through the net and drop down to the floor. _

_Clary took in one more deep breath before readying herself and launching the ball. It sailed through the air, and it seemed everything was in slow motion, when it only took a mere few seconds to miss the net and land on the ground with a thud. _

_All around her, teammates fell in silent, but the other team was screaming in joy. They yelled out chants, chants that should have contained Clary's name in, but instead had someone else's. She heard whoops and hoots from the opponent's crowd. _

_Her ears felt like they were going to explode, and she resisted the urge to throw up on the spot. She felt like she was going to be sick. _

_Clary's friend, Isabelle, walked over to her and draped her arm over Clary's shoulder. _

_"Hey, you all right?" she asked._

_Clary barely managed a nod in Isabelle's direction before looking away._

_"It's all right. It's not your fault, Clary," she said. _

_But Clary knew that was bullshit. Clary, the team captain, missed the winning shot. What was—_

_"Yeah, you were just nervous," another teammate echoed, breaking her thoughts. _

_Clary shrugged off Isabelle's arm and walked away, her head hanging in defeat the entire time. _

Failure. She'd failed her team. She'd failed herself. She let down her coach, everyone. And now she was paying the price by getting told off by her coach that she needs to practice a shit ton more.

Sighing, Clary skidded to a stop and glanced up at the basket. She lifted the ball, and released it. She watched as it arced through the air and… missed. It bounced off the rim of the hoop and thudded to the ground.

God, what was her problem? Why wouldn't any of the shots go in? Did her luck run out or something? No. Probably not. Were her mechanics messed up? Probably. But she had no idea what the hell she was doing wrong.

Clary picked up the basketball and shot from another angle, but the ball bounced off again. Frustrated, she tried again and again, shooting from every single point she could, but she made no progress. Everything and anything she tried, she was missing.

Angrily, she let the ball roll off to the side and walked over to the bleachers where she'd kept her bottle of water. Clary squirted the liquid inside her mouth and swished it around before swallowing it.

In the midst of thinking about how horrible she was performing, her eyes wandered to the corner of the gymnasium, and found a blond male dribbling the orange ball between his legs as he made his way over to one of the hoops located near him.

He threw off his hoodie and set it on the bleachers before dribbling the ball over to the basket. Clary stared as he executed a perfect three without breaking a sweat. Then, he simply walked back to the free throw line and launched the ball. It sailed through the air and swished through the net, falling to the ground with a satisfied noise.

That was the noise Clary wish she'd heard at the game, and not what had happened instead. Anger flooded through her again, and she faced away from him.

Clary ignored him and fetched the ball, this time just randomly throwing it at the hoop. It wasn't like she could get better in a day, anyway, so why even try?

It bounced off the walls and Clary watched it roll all the way to the other side of the court. Clary went over to pick the ball when the blond male had already grabbed it and was holding it out to her.

"Thanks," she mumbled and turned away.

Maybe she should call it a day and go watch a bunch of chick flicks with Izzy to make herself feel better. Or try to draw something in her notebook. Because of the basketball season, she wasn't able to do what she loved doing (along with playing the game): draw.

"Hey, you might want to try bending your knees a bit," Clary heard a deep voice speak from behind her.

She whirled to find him appraising her with amusement. He boy wore a pair of baggy, black basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. The threadbare white t-shirt clung tightly to him, accentuating his lean chest underneath.

"What?" Clary blinked.

"Just a tip that you might want to consider using." He shrugged and turned back to his basket.

Clary narrowed her eyes at him before concentrating on her ball. _Yeah, right. Like that was going to help. _But as Clary neared the hoop, she crouched, bent her knees, and aimed the basketball for a swish. As the ball left her hands and flew through the air, it dropped through the net.

Her jaw dropped open. She turned to thank him, but she found that she was alone in the court.

O.O.O

Jace walked out of the building as quickly as he dared. The face flashed across his vision. That girl. That hair. It couldn't be. She was not alive.

He was too deep in thought to notice another boy headed toward him in a rush, and the two collided. Jace frowned and took a step back as the other boy fell to the floor.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"Sorry," he said, getting up and dusting himself off. Everything about him was astounding. His hair was perfect, even though he had just fallen. His teeth sparkled when he mouth opened. His eyes showed the pathway to his perfect soul that only an angel deserved. "I'm in a rush. Did you come from the basketball courts?"

Jace crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, why?"

"Was there a girl in there? Crazy red hair?"

"Sorry, I only saw someone with sane red hair." He pushed his way past the boy and continued out the building. As he pulled the door open to go outside, he took his phone out of his pocket. No messages. As always.

With classes over for the day, he really only had one place to go. He took the subway to Penn Station and made his way through the crowds of people to the back, to Rose Pizza. He found Alec in the back at one of the tables, watching the TV and eating.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, Jace," Alec said, wiping his face with a napkin. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jace shook his head. "It's just crowded today, that's all."

"It's always crowded. But crowded is good. People hide things. You're not hungry?"

He shook his head again.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Well, okay. The rest of the gang should be here soon. I'm gonna go get some more pizza." He took his tray and headed back to the front, leaving Jace alone at the table.

Jace sighed and rested his head in his hand. The television was showing the news, and although it was hard to hear over all the people, things seemed surprisingly slow that day. Lately all he could remember was reports of police and gunfights and people dying. He almost wanted to get involved, just for the sake of saying he was.

Alec came back with two slices of pizza on two plates. He handed one to Jace. "Here, eat anyway," he said. "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I told you I'm not hungry. And that the rest of the gang is late. And that I'm tired today."

"Tired?" Alec bit into his pizza. "Actually tired, or are you just saying that so you can go and sulk somewhere? Don't think I don't know you. Don't think I don't know that something happened."

"Just drop it."

"I wish you'd share things with people. Maybe then you'd be happier."

"I'd be happier if a lot of things happened. Sharing things isn't one of them."

Before Alec could open his mouth to say anything more, the back of Rosa's Pizza became very quiet, and a group of ten boys entered. Their leader scanned the room, and then his eyes rested on Jace and Alec. He led the crowd to their table and everyone took chairs to sit around them.

"Why are you late, Sebastian?" Jace asked, glaring at him.

"Don't throw a hissy fit." Sebastian reached in front of Jace and took the untouched slice of pizza that Alec had given him. "We were late for a reason. A very good reason."

"Which is?"

"Jace, you shouldn't talk back," Alec said, his mouth full of food.

"Shut your mouth while you're still chewing," Sebastian said, his mouth full of food as well. "But really, don't talk back. Listen. You know those reports on the news recently, about the police and the gunfights? Well, we were up in Harlem—"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Jace interrupted.

"_Listen_, would you?" Sebastian sneered at him. "As I was _saying_, we were up in Harlem, and we found a guy who we thought was easy enough to get stuff from. So we got him into an empty parking lot and surrounded him, but I guess we chose bad, because before we knew it he had ten other guys with him."

"He was part of the gang that the police has been fighting with?" Alec asked.

"Yeah. And now we're fighting with them, too."

"You mean you guys had a _gunfight?_" Alec dropped his pizza. "Is everyone okay?"

Sebastian smirked. "Only one guy, but he's being taken care of now. We know how to defend ourselves." He opened his coat up to reveal a handgun tucked neatly inside.

Jace shoved Sebastian's coat closed, tipping over the chair a bit. "What are you, _crazy_? Don't even risk anyone seeing that out here!"

Sebastian frowned and steadied his chair. "You better watch yourself. I'm the one in charge here. You seem to forget that often."

"What did you do with the bodies?" Alec asked.

"That's why we were late. We were thinking for a while. We piled them inside the nearest dumpster. Frankly, we're lucky we didn't get caught. But we need to move the bodies tonight before anyone finds out, connects it to us, and comes hunting us down."

Jace stood up. "Well, good luck with that. I'm tired. I'm out of here for the day."

Sebastian was up in a flash, his hand on Jace's shoulder. "No you don't. You're part of our gang; you're helping us move the damn bodies. We're going to have to bring them to the water and dump them there. You two meet us at the usual place in Harlem at sunset. You got it?" He glanced at Alec, then back to Jace.

"Yeah," Alec said.

"Good. Let's get out of here, guys." With a nod of his head, Sebastian led the other nine boys out of Rosa's Pizza.

"Does it make him feel special to have a personal lot of mindless idiots following him around everywhere?" Jace mumbled under his breath. "Do you think they wipe his ass after he goes to the bathroom, too?"

"Just stop talking back to him," Alec said, standing up.

"I can do whatever I want."

"Fact of the matter is, you can't. You're in a gang. And there's gotta be some kind of order, even in a gang. I'll see you in Harlem later." He gave Jace a little smile and walked away.

Jace stood alone. He glanced back at the television. It didn't seem as if they'd found any bodies yet.

And he'd have to help make sure they never did.

O.O.O

Simon kicked along a can of soda in front of him as he made his way over to Clary's house. He scratched the back of his head as he thought back to what had happened when he literally ran into a blond guy.

The other boy had brushed him off as if not a care in the world, but there was something unsettling about him that Simon couldn't shrug off.

After Simon rushed inside the courts, he searched for Clary, looking for that familiar flash of red he'd wanted to see since the day of the championships. He remembered seeing anguish on Clary's face when she'd missed the last basket. He'd wanted to see her after the game, but when he tried looking for her, Clary's father notified him that she went home. After that, Simon had called and called his best friend, but she never picked up her phone.

Simon wasn't sure why she was acting this way. Sure, missing the last winning shot in the championships was sad, but why she was acting the way she was right now left him confused.

Simon paused and noticed that he was standing in front of Clary's house. His feet had led him to her without even thinking about it. And now, as he looked at the house, he was relieved to find nothing had changed in the past month. It was still a two-story blue home with stepping stones that led to the main door. Flowers sprouted in the garden that Jocelyn had started a couple years ago, and—

"Simon, what are you doing out there? Come on inside," Luke, Clary's father, said.

Simon glanced up and found Luke wearing a pair of faded corduroy jeans with a long brown shirt, waving him over. Simon gave him a nod and stuck his hands in his jean pockets before walking toward the house.

Once inside, Simon could smell the aroma of pizza wafting from the kitchen.

"You can go upstairs. I'm not done with the pizza yet," Luke yelled from the kitchen.

"Okay," Simon replied and headed up the stairs.

He stopped in front of Clary's room and raised his hand to knock.

"Come in," came her voice.

He twisted the knob and it opened with a soft click. His eyes drew toward her figure on the bed. She lay on her stomach with a notepad in front of her, her fiery red curls covering a good portion of what she was drawing. But nevertheless, the pen scrawled images across the paper.

Simon cleared his throat to get her attention.

Clary glanced up, her green eyes looking at him curiously. "Why are you standing over there like you're a stranger?"

"Because I feel like one."

She sighed and pulled herself up. "Simon, look, I'm—"

Simon raised his hand to cut her off. "Don't apologize. I just want to know if you're okay…" He paused. "Are you?"

Clary chewed on her bottom lip. "Come sit here," she patted the space next to her.

He went over to her, but didn't sit down. "You're avoiding my question."

She got off the bed and took his hands in hers. "No," she said softly. "But it's not because of the basketball thing. I'm over that."

He furrowed his brows. "Then what?"

"Simon…" she said slowly, "Have you forgotten what day it is?"

"Uhh, I guess so? Why? Was today the first day you realized how cool Jewish people are or something?"

"It's the day my mother died," Clary said, her voice full of emptiness.

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_Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Let us know what you think. :) _

_- Jake and lightlacedwithbeauty_


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